


Palmtop Wonderland

by teletou



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 05:29:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5485370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teletou/pseuds/teletou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natsuya still sees him, sometimes, in the hallway, in between other students walking past, behind ever-moving crowds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Palmtop Wonderland

His jacket falls from his hand, a silk fractal on the tips of fingers, a short descend through the air to settle over Haruka's head. Natsuya watches, as he stays still, unmoving, knees to his chest, face buried in his arms.

"You're going to catch a cold," he says, looking away, to the far wall, the gray sky behind the roof overhang.

Haruka says nothing, curls further into himself. Natsuya's jacket slides off, down the side of his head to the floor.

"If you're not going to swim, at least sit somewhere else." _Where you're not likely to catch a cold._

The reply he gets is a blank stare, not at him, not even a spared thought, the pool's ripples reflected in Haruka's eyes.

 

\--------

 

He doesn't see Haruka's face, his head bowed down and his fingers trembling, a white envelope clutched tight and thrust towards him.

 _Resignation letter,_ in broken scrawls.

 _'What happened?'_ Natsuya wants to ask, eyes locked onto a crease under Haruka's thumb.

 _'Are you okay?'_ Natsuya wavers, his hand frozen between them, an aborted motion, wanting to push aside Haruka’s knuckles grazing his gakuran.

 _‘Is there anything I can—’_ Natsuya stops himself from asking, looks at Haruka’s hair falling forward.

 _‘We’ll miss you.’_ Natsuya doesn’t say, when he takes the envelope with steady hands.

He hates that his expression stays composed, unreadable even as Haruka walks away. Down the hallway, out the corner, footsteps in soft echoes.

 

\--------

 

Natsuya still sees him, sometimes, in the hallway, in between other students walking past, behind ever-moving crowds.

 

\--------

The second button from the top, the one closest to his heart. Haruka looks up at him with wide eyes, confused, lips parted around a breath. Natsuya punches his chest lightly, nearly laughs at the way he stumbles back, just a little. His grip stays firm, against the material of Haruka’s uniform.

“Take care, yeah?”

An overturn of his hand, a button on his palmtop. Haruka reaches out, hesitantly, gently, the very tips of his fingers brushing Natsuya’s.

“We’ll see each other again soon.” He makes a one-sided promise, taking Haruka’s hand in his, holds the button tightly between them.

 

\--------

 

Natsuya sees himself in the mirror, an empty buttonhole, loose threads curling out. He smiles, wistfully, catches the edge of sadness tugging on his lips, when he tries to look away, over his shoulder to the back of his room.

It’s a form of trust, more than anything. Selfishness, maybe. For Haruka to get up one day and continue running forward, for him to burn as bright as the day they first raced against each other.

For him to one day stand next to him, on the starting blocks and in the water.

 

\--------

 

“Haruka?”

He finds him again, the first time after years apart. Haruka almost forgot how he looks like, remembers glimpses of fingers ruffling his hair instead, a vivid memory of an open palm, an oversized jacket draped around his shoulders.

Eyes wide, from two blocks on his right, wet brown hair curled every which way, a droplet of water on a stray strand.

“Natsuya-senpai,” he breathes, a shared look of dream-like wonder.

Natsuya recovers first, red eyes flashing, a show of teeth in a grin. “It’s been a while,” he says with a tilt of his head, pointing his thumb towards the pool. “Up for a race?”

His answer is a familiar one, a response that Natsuya mirrors with enthusiasm. A grip on the hem of his shirt, a sharp pull over his head, a flutter of white, a short arc as he throws the article of clothing down to the floor.

Natsuya laughs, voice rich, loose and open, crinkles on the outer corner of his eyes. He calls over his shoulder for someone to time them, then moves into position over the starting block. Haruka follows, watches the water ripple under him behind purple-tinted goggles. He inhales, long, steady, waits for the signal behind his pulse drumming his ears.

The whistle rings, cutting through the air.

He jumps in.


End file.
